


Waiting for Molly

by Medusae_Aequorea_victoria (Aequoreavictoria)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adorable Lestrade, Awesome Molly, Awkward Dates, BAMF Lestrade, Complete, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Lestrade, Romance, Tender Sex, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aequoreavictoria/pseuds/Medusae_Aequorea_victoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg is sure that Molly likes him but she is avoiding him. Gentle but determined, Greg decides to find out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was something vulnerable about Molly Hooper that brought out DI Greg Lestrade's protective instincts. He knew he was hopelessly out-dated in this respect, women these days found the idea of male protectiveness more quaint than anything and he took some ribbing for it at work. But he respected Molly too; she was tough when it came to her work and smart he thought, as he knocked on the door of the lab above the morgue.

She looked up as usual, smiling at him as he entered the room, but giving no sign of anything other than professional courtesy. He gave a small inward sigh.

"Hello Greg, which case is it today?" she asked in her friendly manner.

She ran the morgue with astonishing efficiency and could remember the details of every case for at least the past twelve months. He wished more of his officers had her brain and commitment. He paused some way off from her with his hands in his pockets; for some reason he always felt a little clumsy in her presence.

"The Sylvester file", he said looking down with a shake of his head, "Again." "His widow's saying now it was poison…."

"You'd like me to run more tests? I'll start on it straight away."

"No, no," he replied hastily, "Just when you have time, not a high priority, I know how busy you are." The thought of her working late in the lab at night disturbed him although like his ex-wife she would probably laugh off his concern if she knew of it. He supposed it was patronizing to suggest women couldn't look after themselves, even at night in the city. Still, after the things he's seen in his long career, terrible things, the feeling was impossible to shake.

"Oh, it's no bother," Molly was saying brightly.

"Ah, well, thank you."

He smiled and turned away, unable to think of anything further to say although he wished he could.

Just at that moment the ear-splitting ringing of the hospital emergency alarm began to sound.

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Molly, flustered.

Greg noticed that she started violently at the sound and sensitive to her agitation he smiled reassuringly at her and gestured courteously for her to proceed him toward the fire exit.

They made their way up the stairs, Molly explaining nervously over the sound of the alarm, "It will be just a drill, they said we'd be having one this week."

He nodded in reply, feeling distracted by her nearness but firmly trying to repress the sensation. She was much younger than he and probably considered him old. She was staying very close to him however, as they moved to the entrance crowded with staff and patients leaving the building and he wondered if he should offer her his arm. He hesitated, not sure if the gesture would be welcomed.

They were descending the main front steps of the hospital moving toward their muster point when he heard a shout and a scuffle behind them. Turning quickly, his reflexes fast from years of police work, he was able to deflect the oncoming figure that without his action would have knocked Molly to the pavement. Still, she stumbled; losing her balance and hitting her head on one of the main entrance pillars before he was able to catch her. Alarmed, he lifted her into his arms and intent on getting her away from the crowd, left hospital security to deal with the panicked patient who had flung himself down the stairs and into Molly.

He carried her in the direction of his vehicle since returning to the hospital was impossible for the moment, noting with relief that she wasn't completely unconscious. He could feel her struggling to move but too dazed to do so. She was surprisingly light, too light he thought; there must be almost nothing to her under the baggy clothing and the too big lab coat. He murmured something soothing to quiet her, deftly opened the passenger door of the car and placed her gently onto the seat. He then carefully reclined it and leaning forward, felt for her pulse.

Her heart rate was good and he could see some colour returning to her cheeks. He was leaning over her, gently examining the side of her head where it had come into sharp contact with the pillar when her eyes opened.

She stared up at him shocked and just as he was about to say something to her, she gasped, "No, don't! Please don't!" and flung herself wildly away from him toward the driver's seat.

He drew back in such surprise that he banged his head on the roof of the car. He watched stunned, as she clutched her head in pain, staring at him in fear, as tears filled her brown eyes.

"Molly!" he exclaimed, "What is it?"

Wanting to calm her, but afraid to move, he stood helplessly at the open car door. As he watched, he saw recognition start to return to her eyes, perhaps at the sound of his voice, although the confusion remained.

"Molly," he said again, softly.

"Oh God," she said, still holding her head and trying to cover her eyes at the same time. It was the first time he'd ever heard her swear, mild as it was, and it alarmed him further.

"It's okay," he said awkwardly, "You bumped your head while we were going down the stairs and I brought you to my car, that's all. You are going to be fine." He smiled encouragingly, wishing she would look at him.

"Oh, Greg, yes, of course!" she attempted a laugh, struggling to regain her composure. "How silly of me! Thank you, I'm fine now, thank you," she said again, trying to sit up, clearly wanting to leave the car.

"Molly, I think we should get someone to look at your head…"

"Heavens no! I'm fine, I'll just go back to the lab now, thank you I'm fine."

Except she couldn't stand up on her own.

"Please, Molly, let me help you," he said, full of anxiety now, knowing something was wrong, but uncertain what it was.

There was a pause, during which she must have realized she couldn't stand or walk on her own before she said in a small voice, "Yes, a…..alright, thank you."

He put his arm around her, keeping his distance as best he could for that seemed to be what she wanted. Slowly, they made their way back to the hospital.

She didn't seem to have a concussion but she needed to be careful for at least twenty-four hours the intern who examined her announced cheerfully. She could expect a strong headache and there would be significant bruising he added. A lump was already forming.

Glancing at her as they left A&E, Greg could see she was near complete exhaustion. She had assured the intern that she would not go home alone but would go to her sister's place for at least the night and had accepted without protest Greg's offer to drive her there. He left her briefly in the care of a hospital aide and went down to the lab to collect her bag and coat, locking the lab doors on his way out.

He brought his vehicle to the hospital entrance, assisted her into the passenger seat and drove to her sister's flat. Her sister, whom he had talked to briefly from the hospital, was waiting for them. Molly had said nothing during the drive, not that he had expected her too, but it worried him none-the-less. He left them with both his mobile and home phone numbers with a request to call him if they needed anything. As he handed her over to her sister, Molly smiled politely from a pale face, but did not meet his eyes. He puzzled over this, and indeed the entire incident, as he drove somewhat distractedly back to his office. Something was clearly wrong with Molly.


	2. Chapter 2

Greg very much wanted to see Molly the next day but he settled for sending her flowers for which she called to thank him. She assured him she was perfectly fine and that he need no longer be concerned about her. He got the strong impression that she was warning him off. Initially, being the sensitive soul that he was, he felt hurt, especially since she was becoming increasingly difficult to get out of his thoughts. He wasn't a conceited man; if anything rather too self-effacing but he was sure she didn't dislike him. He remembered the frightened start she had given when the alarm at the hospital had gone off and how she had stepped, perhaps involuntarily, closer to him. Instinct had told her that he would protect her. She was nervous but not of him he was sure; it was something or someone else.

He waited several days before, on the pretence of enquiring about another case, he went to the lab again. Before he knocked on the door he stopped to take a deep breath and gather his confidence, glancing through the window as he did. Molly was there, but she was sitting still and although she wasn't facing the door he thought she looked sad. No, not just sad. Her stillness and the droop of her shoulders communicated something more… defeat. Alarmed and by now convinced that something was very wrong, he quietly retreated a few yards back down the hall. Then, so as not to embarrass her he made a noisier approach including a soft but audible knock on the door. He waited a second or two before entering in case she needed the time to gather her thoughts.

He'd been right he saw as he entered; her cheerful mask was back in place and she greeted him with a bright smile. He returned her smile and asked politely how she was feeling. She was still a little pale he could see, but she reassured him she was fine. Not dwelling on that, sensing she was uncomfortable, he asked about the case.

"Yes, yes," she said, "I remember the file. I'll get it right away." She got up immediately and went to where the morgue file boxes were neatly stored, reaching to lift one of the higher ones down. Wanting to assist her, Greg followed and leaned over her to take the box as she grasped it. She must have been unaware that he had followed her because as he reached above her she turned with a sharp cry, cringing away and almost falling. "Don't!" she gasped, her eyes dark with fear as she stared up at him.

He stepped back sharply at her outburst. Continuing to back away from her and automatically switching into his professional mode, he made a calming gesture with his hand and said in a soothing voice, "It's okay, Molly, it's okay, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm sorry; I was just going to lift the box down for you. That's all." He continued to back away, giving her as much space as he could. My God, he wondered, what the hell is going on?

Molly was quickly pulling herself together, trying to recover her composure. "Oh, I, I was just surprised that's all, I'm sorry Greg, I've just been a bit jumpy lately, perhaps it was the fall," she babbled on trying to cover her embarrassment. "Is this the file you wanted?"

He could see now that tears weren't far away as she said quickly, "Please take all the time you need to look at it, you can use the desk in the office…please excuse me, I've somewhere to be now. I'm so sorry; please lock the office on your way out." And with this she almost ran from the lab.

Greg remained standing motionless for some time before he picked up the file box from where it had landed on the floor, placed it in the office, carefully locked the door and left the lab, still deep in thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied past sexual assault.

Greg's job was particularly demanding over the next week but he continued to think about Molly. He was deeply worried and puzzled about her behaviour but did not return to the lab. His recent visits seemed only to upset her.

Distracted and more dissatisfied than ever with his work, he could hardly bring himself to show up at the office each day. He felt old and tired. The feeling had been creeping up on him for years he admitted to himself; this disillusionment with his job and with his life was not something new. It wasn't the divorce; that had been more of a relief than anything when they had finally gotten around to it. The kids were in college and university now. His ex-wife was happy to be out of their marriage and focusing on her triathlon training and her new fitness coach, he thought without bitterness.

Then one particularly difficult night when one shift was short two officers, he rode along on an assault in progress call. It was the same ugly scene as he remembered from his early years as a patrol officer; a man drunk and belligerent, a woman with unknown injuries, unable to raise her eyes from the floor and being assisted by female officers to a waiting ambulance. It sickened him beyond measure but he did the work required to the best of his ability; following up with victims' services, completing the paperwork for the arrest, the restraining order, the peace bond and a call to the prosecutor to put a word in her ear about no bail for the accused. Finally, everything done that could be done; he went home for a few hours of sleep before returning to the office in the early afternoon.

He was never sure why it hit him then but he was on his way to his desk passing the interview rooms when the realization stuck him: Molly's terror at coming-to in his vehicle and finding him looming over her, the panic triggered by his unexpected movements, her painful insecurity and the avoidance of eye contact…. He halted, so horrified that he stopped breathing. He tried to un-think the thought. It couldn't be true! He didn't want it to be true. But it was too late. Every instinct, all of his training, the experiences of years on the force told him he was right.

He dragged air like fire into his lungs. No! Not Molly! Rage flooded his body and his self-control snapped. Unable to stop himself, he picked up the nearest chair and flung it against the glass window of an empty interview room. Disregarding the safety glass exploding before him and the shocked expressions of his colleagues, his fists clenched and chest heaving, he strode from the office. He had to move, to fight, to do something with the flood of anger and pain that was choking him. Unaware of the rain beating down on his jacketless back, he turned in the direction of the industrial road. Once on it, he began to run. Maybe he could outrun it, could he? He would try.

She must never know that he had guessed. If she did, she would hide away and be lost to him forever. Her shame would kill any chance of a relationship with him, no matter what he said to her. He knew her and he knew how it was for victims: for some grossly unfair reason they almost always blamed themselves. Dear God, what could he do?

He ran and then walked himself to exhaustion, only to arrive home and spend what was left of the early morning hours sleepless staring at the ceiling of his bed room. But by the end of that long night he had made a decision. He'd discovered that he cared for Molly (for how long he had, he didn't know, but it didn't matter…), she needed help and support and he could provide it. So really, nothing had changed from the day before except that he had a new understanding of his feelings and a new sense of purpose. Oh that and he wanted badly to find the monster who had hurt her.

He left for his office at the usual time, looking the worse for wear and not sure what to expect from his colleagues. Sure enough, when he arrived he found a terse email in his inbox from his boss ordering him to show up for a psychological assessment and informing him he was now on stress leave until further notice. Good, he thought, getting up and firmly striding back out of the office; more time to hunt down and kill the bastard who had hurt Molly.

He nodded briefly to Donovan and Anderson on his way out. They wouldn't miss him he knew; probably they were glad to see him sidelined. They considered his pragmatic, bend-the-rules-to-get-the-case-solved approach to be too old-school. They were by-the-book, new-school types. Feeling only a little guilty, he let himself acknowledge his dislike for them both. I'm going to enjoy being fired, he thought suddenly.


	4. Chapter 4

Feeling freer that he had in months, maybe even years, Greg left his office and returned to his flat. He showered, shaved, changed into casual clothes and drove himself to the hospital and Molly. He took a steadying breath before he knocked on the door then smiled at her as he entered the lab. To his relief she smiled back, busy at the counter with a microscope. He knew she loved her work and that she excelled at it gave her confidence. Before she could ask why he was there, as he didn't want to tell her yet that he was now more-or-less unemployed, he asked in a friendly manner what she was working on. His distraction was successful for without hesitation, she began a detailed description of an unusual case that had come in the previous night.

He was seated on a stool a comfortable distance away from her, listening with interest, when she stopped and said nervously, "Oh, Greg, I'm so sorry, I forgot, how rude, would you like some coffee? I should have asked, I mean offered."

Before she could take a step in the direction of the lab coffee machine, he smiled, unfolded his arms, stood slowly and said, "Yes, I'd love a coffee, let's go to the DemiTasse, it's just around the corner, I heard the coffee's great there. You can finish telling me about the case; we had one something like it a few years back..." then, giving her no time to think about it, he reached smoothly for her coat and held it open for her expectantly.

"Oh, um," she blushed in surprise, "Right, well, okay."

The café wasn't crowded for the main rush of the day had subsided. He had known this would be the case, he wouldn't have suggested coffee out otherwise, as perhaps too many people, too close would have made Molly uncomfortable.

He asked casually what type of drink she would like, smiling easily when she shrugged her slender shoulders and said, "Oh, I'm not sure, anything is fine."

He settled her in a seat at a table near the counter where she could see him order their drinks. Not wanting to leave her alone at the table for long, he asked the server for two cups of their ready-to-pour blend. He took these to their table and watched as she added milk and sugar to hers so he'd be able to fix it the way she liked it the next time they came. As he watched, he thought how pretty her hands were. He hadn't felt like this looking at a woman since college, no, correct that, he hadn't felt like this looking a woman, ever.

When they were finished, he walked her back to the lab and resisting the strong urge to stay with her for the rest of the day; accepted her stammered thanks and left her with a casual nod of his head and a lift of his hand. Then, feeling unbearably restless, he went to his gym and worked himself to the same state of exhaustion that he had the day before.

He forced himself to wait a full day before going to the lab again to see Molly. He spent a good deal of the day at the gym again; it helped to relieve the anxiety that refused to stop gnawing at his chest. He didn't sleep well.

When he arrived at the lab in the mid-morning of the following day, Molly greeted him with a shy smile. He had a sense she was glad he was back, which filled him with hope, but he could tell by the untidy piles of papers and equipment scattered about the room that she was busy.

Determined not to interfere with her work, he said, "I can see how busy you are, perhaps coffee out another time?" He was surprised and pleased to see a shadow of disappointment cross her face at this. So he continued without a pause, "I'll head over to the café then and get us a couple of coffees to go. Same as last time?" he questioned with another smile.

"Oh! Why yes, of course, yes, that would be nice," she stammered with surprise, the happiness back in her face.

With another smile and nod of his head, he departed. This time he bought a fresh sandwich for each of them as well as the promised coffee. She probably wouldn't have time to break for lunch and he hadn't eaten since yesterday. Not sure what kind of sandwich she'd like, he ordered one vegetarian and one ham and cheese, so she could choose. He ordered extra cheddar for both. She was beautiful, actually more than beautiful he considered, but her lightness had concerned him.

She blushed and stammered again when he offered the sandwiches, making him wish he'd brought her some dessert as well. He thought her blushes were adorable. Wishing he could kiss her pink cheeks, he sat back on the stool again, experiencing a sense of deep contentment that they were together and that Molly seemed happy in his presence. But he didn't stay for too long mindful of her heavy schedule.

That afternoon, he presented himself as ordered at the police psychiatrist's office for his mandatory assessment. The doctor, who had been around long enough to recognize true crazy when he saw it, simply recommended an appointment with a nutritionist, regular exercise and a program of peer counselling for anger management. Nothing is going to manage this anger, thought Greg grimly, except the slow and painful death of whoever had hurt Molly. But he left not displeased, realizing he'd gotten off pretty lightly, all things considered. He knew his colleagues were likely very put out with him for leaving them down one interview room.

"Lestrade, you crazy bastard," said a jovial voice in his ear when he answered his ringing mobile that evening. The voice continued, "I heard you were looking for work; Christ, I thought you'd never quit that down-town team of _!"

The expletive was as colourful as any he'd heard in recent months and Greg grinned despite himself.

"So, what happened down there, anyway? Ran out of milk for the coffee? I hate that powdered shit too," continued the voice with a hearty laugh.

"Charlie," Greg said. He'd first met Charlie at Hendon and they had developed a close friendship during their training. They had drifted apart in the years since, his own fault, Greg knew. Charlie had continued to call him from time to time but what with his wife and the kids… although Greg knew blaming his family wasn't entirely fair. When had he lost his drive for his career, in fact his drive for nearly everything, he wondered silently to himself?

"Listen," Charlie was saying, "We're setting up a new unit over here in fraud. We could really use a guy like you, Greg. How about a pint? I'll fill you in."

He enjoyed his drink at the pub with Charlie. He actually felt some of his old enthusiasm for policing emerge as Charlie talked about his work. His friend was as affectionate and easy-going as ever and his sense of humour lightened Lestrade's mood, if only temporarily. They parted on good terms after making an arrangement for a more formal meeting in a few days to discuss the position in the new unit.

 

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	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Evenlodes Friend who expressed a wish for "Greg to have an awkward date with Molly and have it end with them swooning over each other."
> 
> Sorry there isn't exactly swooning per say. They get closer to it in Chapter six though...
> 
>  
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unable to wait another full day, Greg decided to visit Molly the next day when her work hours would be ending. If he timed it right, he might be able to persuade her that she needed to have dinner with him. He was certain if he invited her in advance on anything that seemed like a date, she would refuse. So, leaving nothing to chance if he was successful he made a reservation at a small bistro near the hospital where he knew the food was good and the atmosphere was comfortable and hoped for the best.

He had been right; she was tidying the lab when he knocked on the door in the early evening. He thought he surprised a look of pleasure on her face at seeing him but perhaps it was just wishful thinking on his part…

"Greg! I, um, that is, I was just cleaning up but if you need something it's no problem, none at all."

"No, no, Molly, I was in the area on another matter and as its going to be a busy night, I wondered if you'd like to grab a bite of something quick with me, unless you already have plans, I don't really like eating alone…." He let his voice trail off, endeavouring to look both hungry and lonely.

It worked, her tender heart melted and she said "Of course, yes, that would be nice, I, I, don't have plans."

It was dark by the time they left the hospital but not raining so he suggested they walk, as he thought she would feel more comfortable walking than being in his vehicle alone with him. Walking was pleasant; they took their time, Greg offering her his arm at one point to step over pavement repair. After that, her hand stayed under his elbow he was pleased to note, confirming his impression that she liked having him beside her.

At the bistro he guided her to her seat, pulling her chair out for her and assisting her to remove her coat, but being careful not to touch her. She asked him to order for them both which he was happy to do; he could see that despite his care she was starting to feel nervous. With casual friendliness, he began to ask her about her work, watching as she gradually relaxed. He didn't press wine on her, although he thought a little wine might do her good, and ordered none himself.

Unexpectedly half way through their meal, she said, "I, I've never said anything to you, Greg, but I heard that you had divorced. I'm sorry; it must be hard after so many years, lonely I mean."

He replied with surprise, "Thank you, but it's okay now, after a while you realize it's for the best."

"Do you, I mean, um, are you seeing, you know dating again?" She stammered, looking as though she regretted asking this the instant it was out. Clearly she did because her next words were, "I'm so sorry, it's really none of my business," followed by a furious blush.

"No, it's fine, don't worry, people talk about their relationships all the time, it's all out in the open these days isn't it?" he said, hoping to relieve her awkwardness. He then said, "I've thought about it…" then paused, "I'm not sure who would want to date a worn out, middle-aged cop though."

She looked up in surprise exclaiming, "But you aren't Greg! And I think you're very attractive and…." Here she stopped and looked down at her plate in painful embarrassment. Still looking at her plate she said, "That's not what I meant, I just meant of course you should….um…" she trailed off.

He had answered her question honestly, not looking for sympathy, but felt almost light-headed with delight at her response. Trying to hide it, he said, "I understand, thank you Molly," and followed it up quickly with, "Would you like dessert...?" and handed her the menu so that she wouldn't have to look at him.

Still walking on air at her unintentional confession as they left the restaurant, he asked if he could walk her home, hoping she wouldn't think to ask him about what had happened to his supposedly busy night at work. She didn't.

She smiled shyly and said, "That would be nice, thank you, it's not far."

So they walked, Greg keeping her close, making sure could easily take his arm if she wanted.

They had reached the entrance of her building when a cyclist emerged from the stairs in a great hurry, bike swinging off his shoulder as he came, startling Molly. Greg was still very close and she turned to him it seemed without thinking. He put his arm around her, scarcely touching her but wanting to offer her security. To his amazement she stayed in the circle of his arm. He knew it was her fears that were driving her to him, but if safety is what she needed, then he would gladly offer it. Perhaps wanting him would come later.

He carefully put his other arm around her and held her gently, grateful for her trust. He felt her relax against him, enjoying the comfort of his arms. He sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward and didn't move or speak. Cautiously, but trustingly she lay her head on his shoulder with a small sigh. He wondered if the pounding of his heart would frighten her (it was starting to frighten him, he thought ruefully). He forced himself to empty his mind and relax, maybe those mandatory stress management sessions weren't going to be a complete waste of time after all.

When she finally straightened up he freed her instantly but didn't move away. Unable not to, he sought her eyes and smiled. She looked sleepy and soft, her eyes a more melting brown than ever in the dim street light. She smiled back. "Goodnight Greg, thank you," she said, and to his immense surprise and joy, lifted her face to his and kissed his cheek.

Since she didn't move away, very slowly, he bent and kissed hers too, saying "Good night Molly," adding a silent my darling to himself.

He saw her safely inside her door and stayed until he heard it lock. Then, his mind and body too restless to sleep, he spent another night walking his neighbourhood until dawn.

 

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	6. Chapter 6

The next week Greg decided that he would have to tell Molly he was no longer working at his old job. He'd had two meetings with Charlie and the other members of his team and had agreed to take a position in the newly formed fraud unit. His superiors had been agreeable to the move, perhaps even relieved to see the back of him. With a clear psychiatrist's report he was free to start when he wished. However, he'd negotiated another month of leave, wanting to spend as much time as he could with Molly− as much as she'd put up with him he thought with a self-depreciating grin. He'd persuaded her out twice more for coffee and once for lunch. He very much wanted to invite her on a dinner date but he still wasn't sure her answer would be yes, so he hadn't.

So one morning in time for Molly's break he picked up their usual coffees and a freshly baked chocolate croissant, (he'd discovered that Molly liked chocolate and he was continuing to try to feed her up a little). Not sure how she would respond to his new job announcement, he squared his shoulders before knocking and entering the lab. She looked up eagerly, her smile transparent with genuine happiness that melted his heart and made him forget momentarily what he wanted to say. He very much wanted to kiss her, but forced the impulse away as he smiled back.

Settled with their coffee, Greg sitting on his usual stool, he said, "Molly, I'm, I'm not at my old job anymore. I'm moving to a different position soon…"

Taken by surprise her face fell and she quickly turned away asking in a low voice, "You're leaving Greg?"

Kicking himself for his insensitivity he reached for her hand and said "No, no, Molly, I'm not, I just wanted to tell you I have a new job that's all, it's here still, actually it's even closer to the hospital, in the Empire building."

She didn't pull her hand away, in fact she wound her fingers around his before she said, "Oh, I'm so glad, I mean, of course you should go if you have a good job offer, I was just surprised that's all."

He smiled and gently squeezed her hand, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Is it dangerous? I mean more than your old job?"

"No, it's in the fraud unit, not dangerous at all." Still holding her hand, he asked, "Molly would you please have dinner with me on Saturday night?"

She smiled again and said, "Yes, I'd like that."

By Saturday he'd had to buy some new clothes. His old ones were almost falling off, even with a belt. He'd lost weight, he thought absently. If he'd been a more conceited man he would have noticed his shoulders were broader, his chest more muscled and his hips leaner as well. He was standing taller and walking with more confidence too, although he didn't notice any of this himself. Several of the saleswomen (and one salesman) where he bought his new clothes, however, did notice with some appreciation.

He'd selected a good restaurant but one that wouldn't be intimidating for Molly (or himself he admitted); intimate but not too much so. Satisfied with his choice, he put on a new suit and collecting a large bouquet of flowers, drove to Molly's, knocking on her door at exactly 7:30 pm. She answered his knock promptly, but he could see immediately that she was upset, fearful even. It was too much pressure too soon, he realized at once. While he noticed immediately how lovely she looked without her baggy lab coat, and instead dressed in a pretty sweater, feminine skirt and delicate sandals, he concentrated all his attention on how he might relieve her distress. That she had answered his knock was a good sign but what could he to do now to help her he wondered.

"Hi Molly," he said quietly and then, as she appeared to be immobilized with anxiety, he asked gently, "Would you like me to come in?" At her nod, he carefully stepped inside the door and laid the flowers down on a hall table. Standing still and not close to her, he looked at her again only to see her starting to tremble.

Unable to bear it, he said, "Oh, Molly sweetheart, please don't." He reached for her hand not sure what else to do. She accepted his hand but was not able to look at him.

Wondering if she was fearful, in part, about getting into his vehicle with him, he said, "It's a warm evening; would you like to go for a walk? We don't have to go to dinner if you don't feel like it. Let's just walk and talk."

With a sudden exhale she said, "I'm so sorry Greg. I don't know what's wrong with me lately, really…"

"Molly," he said gently squeezing her hand, "There's nothing wrong with you. I understand. Shall we walk? " He was still holding her hand so he was able to gently coax her through the doorway. What she needed, he thought, was for him to be out of her home, at least for now.

"Is this your wrap?" he asked, lifting a scarf from a hook by the door.

She nodded, able to look at him again. He had done the right thing he thought, weak with relief. He placed the wrap on her shoulders and taking her hand again went with her down the stairs and to the street.

The evening was warm for spring and they walked for some time, still holding hands for Molly showed no sign of wanting to let go; talking about work, his new job and hers at the morgue.

When he thought she was finally relaxed he asked with just the right amount of casualness, "Are you hungry? Perhaps we should just stop for a quick bite of something…"

She said at once, "Oh Greg, I'm so sorry, you must be starving! We were supposed to have dinner!"

"No, no, I'm fine. I had a late lunch," he fibbed, "but let's have something to keep our energy up in case we decide to walk some more."

This made her smile and she said, "Yes, that would be nice."

They'd made a slow circle and were now near the bistro where they'd eaten once before. Spotting an empty table he suggested they stop, knowing that somewhere familiar to Molly was best. This time she accepted a small glass of wine and he had a little himself, just enough to keep her company.

The combination of the wine and Greg's soft spoken, undemanding company allowed Molly to lose much of her nervousness and insecurity. Enjoying watching her glowing face and her smile in the candlelight, Greg stretched the time out as much as he could. As a result, by the time they were finally finished dinner, the spring shower that had begun during their meal had become a down-pour; turning what had been a light spring evening into a cold and dark night. Taxi, Greg thought and called for one as they reached the foyer of the restaurant.

As the taxi drew up, eyeing the rain and the sheets of water running over the pavement, Greg shrugged off his jacket and placed it on Molly's shoulders, buttoning the top button as he did so. He smiled down into her eyes and said, "I have sisters so I know how you ladies feel about your shoes. How about I carry you to the taxi so we don't ruin yours or get your feet wet?" With that, he easily lifted her into his arms and started for the taxi. Upon seeing them the driver opened the car door and Greg set Molly onto the seat, thinking as he did so that he was getting quite good at this.

She must have read his mind for as he took his seat beside her she said slowly, "You've done that before, carried me I mean, I remember now….it was nice…safe," she continued almost to herself.

He glanced at her quickly, before saying quietly, "Molly, you will always be safe with me."

At this, she turned to look directly at him and said slowly, as though she had just discovered something, "Yes….Greg, yes. I know that."

Sensing this was an important moment for them both, Greg reached for her hand again and held it tight.

The rain was still pouring down as the cab drew up to the entrance to her building. He paid the fare and before she could protest, he scooped her up again and made for the stairs leading to her flat. Setting her down lightly on the top of the stairs, he accepted her keys and unlocked the door. "Molly, what about a hot drink, maybe a cup of tea?" he suggested, thinking about the emotional upset she'd had earlier in the evening.

She seemed as though she was about to say no, that she was fine, when she looked at him and exclaimed, "Greg, you are soaked! You must be cold; of course you need a cup of tea!"

"I'd love one." he said, knowing that that meant she would drink one too.

As they entered, she noticed the flowers still on the hall table and said in dismay, "The flowers! I never thanked you and they are so pretty."

He smiled, "Put them in water while I boil the kettle for tea?"

They were silent for a moment, each busy with their tasks, until Molly said, "I noticed your new suit; you look nice Greg." Then she blushed.

"I'm glad you think so Molly," was all he could say, he was so surprised at her compliment.

"I hope the jacket isn't ruined from the rain…," she continued.

He replied, "If it is, I'm sure it's honoured to have been sacrificed for your comfort." He wondered as he said it, if something as mild as this was even too flirtatious.

But she was smiling again; in fact, there was the suggestion of a laugh hovering in her face, causing him to instantly fall more in love with her than he already was.

Tea ready and the flowers rescued and placed in water, they sat on her small settee in comfortable silence for a few moments before he remembered he had brought her a bar of her favourite chocolate along with the flowers.

"Dessert?" he questioned, rising slowly, so as not to startle her and moving to where his jacket was hanging over a chair near the radiator.

She looked up curiously as he pulled the chocolate from the pocket and brought it back to her on the settee.

Then there was that almost-laugh again as she said, "Greg, that's so sweet of you! It's my favourite kind!"

At this he smiled and breaking off a small piece slowly raised it to her lips in silent offer.

"Oh!" She exclaimed blushing, but cautiously accepting it.

His fingers touched her lower lip just slightly, a touch so light that it could have been mistaken for a breath of air.

"My favourite too," he murmured, thinking to himself that he'd definitely underrated the joys of chocolate until now.

Yes, he certainly had, he thought as Molly took a small piece and shyly offered it to him in return.

 

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	7. Chapter 7

Warmed by the tea and relaxed, listening to the rain fall against the window, Greg gently drew Molly into the circle of his arm, rested his head on the back of the settee and closed his eyes, feeling very much at peace.

Molly was soft and warm beneath his arm. Without her lab coat and baggy trousers Greg guessed at how vulnerable she must have felt this evening and was moved beyond words that she had trusted him enough to show her femininity. And she was so beautiful; the pink sweater clinging lightly to her small breasts, the flowered silk skirt draping gracefully over her slender legs and the curve of her hip; her dainty feet and toes an invitation for kisses. He sighed to himself, wishing he had an invitation to kiss every inch of Molly, from the top of her head to the bottom of her pretty toes. Perhaps one day if I'm very, very lucky….he thought.

"Greg?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" The endearment slipped out before he could catch it. But hopefully she wouldn't notice or think too much of it. He'd never been any good at hiding his feelings or playing games; especially with women. He knew that. He also knew that many women found this boring; indeed, found him boring. He suddenly wished very much that Molly didn't find him dull. He didn't feel boring around her or even clumsy any more. He felt alive, alert and to his discomfort on occasion, very aroused when Molly was near (and often, at the thought of her, when she wasn't near as well…). The opposite of boring really, he mused. But he wasn't sure how she felt about him, other than she wasn't afraid of him and trusted him. He sighed silently again.

She was saying, "This is nice. I'm sorry I was so jumpy earlier, that I ruined our dinner plans… it was nice of you to invite me and I was looking forward to it but then…. ." She halted and started again, "I just want to tell you….I like being with you. I like it when you hold me and carry me… when you call me sweet…what I mean is….I hope that you like me too, even though I'm….silly sometimes."

She had started to stammer again, he noticed sadly. The insecurity was back. Unable to speak, finding this anxious confession too heart-wrenching, he simply drew her closer and kissed the top of her head. When she didn't move away he then brushed a couple of gentle kisses onto her cheeks, following next with her ears and then her closed eyes. He kissed the fingers he was holding too, one by one. He didn't press her, he simply brushed kisses onto her, wanting to communicate his feelings; to tell her all the things he wished he could say in words but could not, knowing it was too soon.

His message seemed to be understood, for she relaxed again, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted and the shining waterfall of her hair flowing over his arm. He was momentarily so transfixed at the sight of her that he stopped kissing her and was gazing at her face knowing he would never tire of doing so when she suddenly opened her eyes. He quickly shut his; unable to bear the possibility of seeing distress in hers. He then slowly and regretfully began to draw away, but halted in surprise upon hearing her murmur of protest. She was looking a little dazed from his kisses but there was unmistakable warmth in her eyes and a shy request for him to continue.

An involuntary smile curved his mouth and looking into her eyes he slowly leaned toward her and pressed his mouth against hers. At this, she expelled her breath in a soft sigh of pleasure that shot such an unexpected and hot jolt of desire through him, he was momentarily stunned. Collecting his dissolving self-control with an iron will, he drew her close again and kissed her again, not just her lips, but also the slight dimples beside her mouth, the hollows under her ears and the creamy exposed skin of her neck and shoulders; stroking her hair with a hand that he could hardly stop from trembling.

"Molly, I like you very much. Very much," he said. Then, "And I had a wonderful time tonight; I always do when I'm with you. Now I'm going to go home and let you get a full night's sleep. You are warm and comfortable now? You will sleep well?"

"Oh yes," she breathed, looking happily dreamy from his kisses, he was pleased to see. She followed him to the door where he shrugged on his almost dry jacket.

He bent to kiss her cheek, saying, "If you aren't too busy, I'll stop by on Monday morning with coffee as usual?"

"Yes, please, are you sure Greg?"

"Yes Molly, I'm very sure." He smiled down at her, so pretty in the dim light of the hall. As he did so, she suddenly reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his and kissing him full on the mouth. Taken by surprise, nothing could have stopped him from responding to her as he did; grasping her fiercely to him, taking control of the kiss and deepening it with a masculine groan of pleasure.

Sanity returned in seconds and he broke off the kiss, but still holding her closely, he exclaimed in a choked voice, "Molly, sweetheart, I'm sorry, please forgive me, I'm so sorry, I don't want to frighten you ever, please…" He'd beg on his knees for forgiveness if he had to, he thought frantically.

Oh God, he wondered, why was she not answering? "Molly?" he asked.

He felt her tremble and try to catch her breath before she whispered, "Oh, Greg….."

He drew far enough away to look cautiously at her. If he'd thought she'd looked dazed before it was nothing to now; her breath was coming quickly, her cheeks were flushed; her eyes huge and her lips red and little swollen from their kiss.

Overcome with relief and wonder he gently kissed her cheek once again before whispering, "My sweet, sweet Molly," and then, "Please lock the door," before, with a final squeeze of his hand on hers he left her and went out into the rainy night.

 

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	8. Chapter 8

The next day, Greg did the necessary household chores including shopping for some of the hitherto unknown fresh vegetables that had been recommended by his dietician before going to his gym again. The memory of Molly's body pressed against his and that kiss was a constant distraction. For Christ's sake, Greg, he chided himself, the idea is to take it slow, remember? You aren't 18 anymore, get control of yourself. This self-lecture didn't help at all, of course. His desire for Molly was overwhelming and her response to his kiss was now all he could think about.

Monday dawned sunny for once and he was up early, getting in an extra work-out before he went to the lab to see Molly. Even after having showered and changed, it was still probably too early when he arrived at the lab with coffees and a fresh pastry in hand. She'd been waiting for him though because before he'd fully stepped into the room she was flying over to him as though she had wings on her feet, hardly giving him time set down the coffee before reaching him, winding her arms around his neck and hugging him with a breathless, "Greg!"

Delighted with this welcome, he wrapped his arms around her and breathed, "Molly, sweetheart!" in her ear, punctuating it with a kiss. Resisting the sudden strong urge to ease her gently back and up onto the lab counter where he could make love to her then-and-there (the idea made all the more tempting by the fact that she was wearing a short, slim skirt today… oh, he could so easily place both his hands on her hips and slide the skirt up over her slender thighs and curved bottom…). He firmly halted this line of thought before it went any further and instead kissed her again and whispered, "Well, good morning to you too, my beautiful girl." She blushed adorably at this endearment and busied herself with the coffee he handed to her.

She seemed as distracted as he, stopping more than once as though she had forgotten what she was saying. She was not stammering the way she used to; her voice just kept trailing off when she looked at him. And she wasn't eating the pastry, he noticed, so he pulled his stool a little closer to hers and began to break off bite-sized pieces and pop them into her mouth; smoothing crumbs off her lips with his thumb after each bite.

"Do you like it?" he asked her softly.

She blushed again but held his eyes; hers wide and dark; so warm and liquid he could happily drown in them….

He must have gone still at that thought because Molly smiled and whispered, "Yes, I like it…do you, Greg?"

There was only one answer to this question, so he gave it; leaning in and kissing her full on the mouth, pastry crumbs and all.

A short while and more kisses later, satisfied that she'd eaten enough of the pastry and aware she had a full day ahead of her, he rose reluctantly from the stool and said, "Thank you for sharing your coffee break with me Molly. Tomorrow evening, another walk maybe?"

She nodded smilingly at this. He gave her a last quick kiss and left.

He had to return to his old workplace to deal with his job exit paperwork so he set out then to get it over with, still thinking of Molly of course. He was never not thinking about her these days.

He entered the building where he'd worked for so many years; surprised that it was only three weeks since he'd been there but that it seemed a lifetime ago. Arriving at the front desk, he pulled his sunglasses off and greeted Suzanne, one of their receptionists, with friendly courtesy.

"Greg!" she exclaimed, "I didn't recognize you!"

Why on earth not? he wondered absently. But all he said aloud was, "I'm here to see the Chief Superintendent….."

Suzanne continued to stare at him for a moment before she exclaimed, "Oh, yes!" at the same time tugging down her too-tight sweater to reveal what he was certain was more cleavage than was probably permissible under the office dress code….

Good grief! Was she flirting with him? No, impossible. Suzanne went for the younger guys in uniform, not the old guys like him (and thank God for it he'd always thought; not that she wasn't pretty or a nice woman, she was, but….)

Bemused by the thoughts running through his head, he thanked her cautiously and turned with some relief toward the Chief's office down the hall.

When he emerged later after a mercifully short meeting with the Chief he decided for courtesy's sake he should pay a quick visit to his old colleagues before he left. This he did, awkwardly it seemed, for as he arrived he saw Anderson and Donovan in his old office obviously getting a dressing-down from his replacement, the new DI. The others greeted him with pleasure, if a little cautiously too; the episode of the smashed window was still relatively fresh in their minds. They'd all liked him though; they regretted seeing him go and said as much.

Giving a nod in the direction of Greg's old office, Geoff, one of the newer officers grinned and said, "Regular martinet, your replacement, she's giving those two a run for their money I can tell you."

There was a quiet chuckle all around at this, causing Lestrade to almost pity Donovan and Anderson. After a few more minutes of chat during which he agreed to drinks out with them next pub night, he took his leave, glad, he admitted to himself, that he wouldn't be going back to work there again.

 

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Spending his usual afternoon at the gym, he continued to think about Molly. Something was beginning to gnaw at him. He was more in love with her than he had ever imagined he could be with anyone and it was suddenly frightening him. Maybe it was time to confess to her how he felt and throw himself at her mercy. She was physically attracted to him, he knew that now, but did she care about him? It was hard to imagine Molly wanting a physical relationship without love and commitment but he had to consider the possibility. She was more confident now and that's how it was these days, women made choices just like men did about sex. Not that he'd ever been much good at casual sex; he was too sentimental for it…but maybe Molly…and of course she had every right to...but he didn't want to think about it.

Self-doubts were starting to crowd into his head. He should talk to her before he got involved any further, try to avoid the heartbreak, if that was the way it was going to go (who am I kidding? he thought, it's already too late for that). Besides he didn't think he even knew how to raise the subject with her. He continued to dwell on the problem for some time, a good part of the night in fact, but found no resolution; he only became increasingly unsure of himself.

It was particularly unfortunate that the next morning in a case of spectacularly bad timing he arrived at the lab to see Molly at the far end of the room, looking up into the eyes of an attractive, younger man who was standing very close to her and sliding an arm around her waist. Greg was a little later than his usual time as he'd had another meeting with Charlie first thing. At the sight of Molly and her companion he stopped, paralyzed for a moment trying to adjust his thoughts.

As it turned out he didn't need to because it quickly became clear that the situation was not what he had assumed. When he realized what was happening, his first impulse was to stride in, grab the young man by the neck, throw him to the floor and put a knee on his throat…. but that would be really-not-good he realized and regretfully reconsidered. Instead, risking Molly's annoyance for interfering, he entered the lab, startling both Molly and the young man. They both turned at once to look at him; Molly with relief and joy transparent on her face and the young man with obvious irritation and hostility. His aggression melted quickly, however, as he took in Lestrade's rigid stance and hard stare from the position he took up just inside the lab door. Greg folded his arms across his chest, more to stop himself from beating the younger man to a pulp than for any other reason, but as well as being intimidating, his posture revealed the unmistakable bulge of his side-arm under his jacket. The combined effect was enough to send the other man almost scurrying from the room without meeting Lestrade's eyes again.

Greg was furious! Molly has the courage to start wearing feminine dresses and skirts to work and this is what happens, he thought? He could hardly stop himself from striding after the kid and throwing him against the wall a few times before knocking him unconscious, he was so angry.

But Molly first… "Molly sweetheart? I'm sorry if I interrupted, you looked like you were handling it just fine." This wasn't quite true but she needed him to show confidence in her ability to look after herself. In addition, word should get around the hospital players pretty quickly after this episode that Molly was not a safe target for their sort of games, so hopefully she wouldn't have any more problems at work.

"I just…" he started to try to explain.

But he got no further because she was touching his arm and smiling up at him, "It's okay Greg, I'm glad you came when you did, very glad."

He sighed with relief, "How about lunch and some fresh air then? It's sunny outside…." and I want to watch the sunlight find the gold in your hair and the breeze stroke pink onto your cheeks, he added silently to himself. She smiled again as he reached for her hand.

 

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"Greg?"

They were walking around the hospital grounds, taking in the early spring flowers that were beginning to emerge in the carefully tended borders.

"Yes, love."

"You seem sad. Is there something wrong? You were happy yesterday but now you're sad."

He hadn't expected this. "Molly, it's just something on my mind a bit lately that's all. I, maybe we can talk about it tomorrow… I need to think about it some more first, I guess."

She stopped and looked up at him, "Greg, I've wanted to say something to you." She sighed, "I know I seem needy sometimes and I guess I am in some ways, but don't feel you need to spend time with me unless you want to. I know how kind you are, what a good man you are, and I don't want you to feel like you have to look after me or something, like I'm a responsibility…"

Here she stopped and glanced briefly into the distance before she looked back and up into his eyes. Her expression was suddenly wise beyond her years, he thought, as though she knew more of life than she should.

"I want you to be free and you deserve to be happy." Then she smiled a beautiful slow smile, as calm and serene as he'd ever seen. "Okay Greg? Promise me?"

Oh dear God, he thought, she thinks I'm trying to break up with her…

"No, no Molly," if he wasn't so unhappy he would almost have laughed at the ludicrousness of the conversation. "It's not that at all! Nothing like that, I don't feel like that way, please don't think that!" He was desperate now, "I, I want to keep you seeing you. But….you want to see me too, as well Molly, yeah?"

"Oh yes! I do Greg," she said firmly.

Her reassurance eased his anxiety somewhat although he held her a moment longer than usual when he left her after lunch and caught the shadow of worry in her eyes as she kissed his cheek in return.

 

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	9. Chapter 9

Greg had another wakeful night, managing just a couple of hours of sleep before dawn only to wake to a rain sodden day, as bleak as his mood. What the hell was I thinking falling in love with a woman almost 20 years younger than me? He cursed himself. Sure the young guy in the lab yesterday was a jerk but there were plenty of decent men her age that she might want to date. And she should too if she wants, he thought, she'd suffered too much; she had a right to grasp life and find happiness. But what if it's not with me? He felt sick at the thought. Somehow over the last month she had become everything to him.

He went to his gym as usual in the morning, trying to come to terms with the possibility that Molly might never be his. Then, as it was Wednesday, he was scheduled to attend a group counselling session that afternoon; a guest speaker would be presenting he noted without interest, so the meeting would run an hour later than usual.

He duly showed up on time. Mobiles turned off was the rule, it always was for the sessions, for good reason he knew. A lot of the guys, especially the younger ones, had a problem with 24/7 mobile use and it was a big contributor to their high stress levels. So he couldn't call Molly when half way through the meeting he very much wanted to. He hadn't seen her that day and was missing her terribly. He sat through the rest of meeting, not hearing a word that was said. To his irritation, the speaker ran late and questions went on for some time so it was almost three hours before the meeting finally broke up. Too late to see Molly at the lab he thought, she would have already left for the day. Feeling desperate enough to ask her if he could go to her flat to talk; perhaps he could take her some dinner too, he pulled out his mobile.

Four messages, all from the lab number. Instantly worried, he listened.

"Hi Greg, it's Molly, um, I'm worried…I heard about the explosion at the Empire Building and I'm sure everything's fine, that I'm just being silly, but they said in A&E that three people were injured and I just wanted to check. If you aren't too busy can you call me? Um, thanks, bye."

The next message was 45 minutes later, then another 30 minutes after that. The last one was 20 minutes ago, "I'm not sure what's wrong, maybe nothing, but you aren't home either so I'm going to walk over to the Empire Building, I know the police are still there and maybe they'll tell me something. If you're okay and just busy, I'm sorry, I just can't help worrying. Okay bye."

By the end of the last message, he was running for his car, cursing the damned support group and Molly's lack of a mobile phone. The neighbourhood between the hospital and the Empire Building was fine during the day but when the office workers cleared out after four o'clock it was deserted and unsafe. To make matters worse the rain now had been joined by a strong wind and the late afternoon was very dark. What the hell was she thinking? If anything happens to her…Oh dear God!

He judged it best to drive to the Empire Building and if she wasn't there, to walk from there toward the hospital with the hope of intercepting her. He arrived at the Empire in record time and took in the scene, scanning the thankfully small crowd gathered as he made his way toward the lead investigator to enquire if Molly had been seen. The other DI initiated a quick radio exchange and shook his head, so nodding his thanks, Greg wasted no time starting toward the hospital, choosing what he thought was the most direct route. He maintained a rapid pace, scanning both sides of the street as he went; there were very few people out but it was difficult to see in the darkness and the rain.

He was getting near the location where he thought Molly should be if she'd left the hospital right after she'd called him….and there, sure enough, he spotted her small figure just down the street head down against the wind and rain and coming in his direction.

He was almost sick with relief at the sight of her. He ran the last few metres toward her and when he was close enough for her to hear, called "Molly!"

Before she had time to respond, he'd gathered her into his arms and was holding her tightly against him. "You scared me," was all he could mumble.

There was silence until, "Greg, I can't breathe," was her squeaky response.

"Oh, sorry sweetheart."

Her breath back, she said in a rush, "Why didn't you call me? I thought you were hurt. I didn't know what to do. Are you alright? You aren't hurt? You're okay? You seem okay." Then, winding down, she finished with, "It's dark."

"I know, I know, sweetheart, I'll explain but you're soaked! Come with me, I want you out of the rain and wind, okay?"

With his arm around her he retraced his steps to his car. To his concern he could feel her shaking beneath his arm; she must have been out in the weather for at least an hour, he judged. He wanted her warm and dry as soon as possible, but that meant going to his place and he wasn't sure she would even agree to get in his car with him, let alone go to his flat.

He had to try. "Sweetheart, I want you to let me drive you to my place okay? It's the closest to here and I'm concerned that you are too cold. Would you please let me do that?"

To his relief, she nodded without hesitation.

He opened the car door for her saying as he did so, "Can I help you off with your coat and to put mine on you? Mine's dryer and it help you warm up."

She nodded again and smiled up at him from the seat of his car, pale and shivering but not unhappy.

This done he got into the driver's seat and, turning the heat on high, drove directly to his flat.

The weather was worsening and he was overwhelmed with thankfulness that he had found her so quickly and that she was now safe with him. I have to convince her that she needs a mobile, he thought…what if something like this happens again and I can't find her?

More than ever, he wished there were no barriers between them and that he could just love and look after her every day; she needed love and care and it made him so happy to provide it to her. But he didn't know if she wanted that from him; maybe now that she was more confident she wanted her independence. He was uncertain and doubting himself again by the time they arrived at his flat. I have to talk to her, he thought, but not now.

"You're a bit cold and stiff, sweetheart?" he asked. "Let me carry you." He lifted her from the seat. She was still too light he noted absently; more chocolate croissants were required.

He'd been concerned that she might be nervous at his flat, but he needed have worried. Once they were in the door, as she had been in the car, she seemed content enough, only still shivering with cold. He guided her to his kitchen table and a chair saying, "I'm going to make us a hot drink, okay?"

He put the kettle on and turned to study her carefully. She looked like a drowning kitten; water dripping from her clothing onto the floor beneath the chair. How would she react he wondered, if he suggested she should take her wet clothes off and borrow a shirt and a bath robe from him….

He sat down slowly before her in the chair opposite and took her hand. "Molly, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, but I'm worried about you sitting in wet clothes. Would you like to change if I lend you a shirt and a bathrobe?"

"Okay," she said immediately. So chilled she can't even summon a blush, he thought.

He poured the kettle and with a reassuring smile went to collect a selection of shirts for her to choose from and a robe.

He was back in moments saying, "I put some clothes and towels out for you, why don't you get changed and dry then come back and we'll have tea? Then I'll drive you home." Or, I could just wrap you in my arms, take you to my bed and keep you warm all night my way, he thought.

He didn't vocalize this wish; he simply smiled at her again as she left the kitchen. Then he took the opportunity to quickly change his own clothes, putting on jeans and a t-shirt and drying his hair with a towel. He was back in the kitchen by the time Molly emerged from the bathroom enveloped in his too-large robe with a towel wrapped around her hair. Adorable, he thought.

They sat on the sofa in the sitting area beyond the kitchen; Molly with her bare feet curled under her at one end of the sofa and he at the other with his legs stretched in front of him. He wanted her to eat something so they shared some cheese and cream crackers with the tea (he wished he had thought to stock up on chocolate, he had liked feeding it to Molly very much, but he'd hadn't imagined she would visit him this soon…).

As they talked, he got the impression that she was trying to downplay her earlier concern about him and her anxious phone calls, causing him to wonder if she regretted it. And she wasn't as open as she had been the day before, either, certainly not the Molly from earlier in the week who had run to him from across the lab eager to kiss him. It was nothing he could pin point exactly; she just seemed distant. This, of course, only increased his already painful insecurity and the fear that she didn't feel about him, the same way he felt about her.

But at least she was safe, warm and dry for the moment. And very tired by the look of her…."Molly?"

"Yes?" she murmured with her eyes closed and the side of her head resting against the sofa facing him. By the time he said "Molly?" again, she was asleep.

He sighed, got up and went to her, sliding his arms under her and picking her up he carried her to his bedroom. She didn't stir as he lay her down on his bed and drew the quilt over her. He turned one of the bedside lamps on low, knowing that waking up in the darkness in a strange place might cause her to panic. He stared down at her for a long moment and then turned, leaving the bedroom and returning to the sofa.

 

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	10. Chapter 10

"Greg?"

The anxiety in Molly's voice pierced the thin layer of sleep that had eventually settled uneasily over Greg.

"Yes, sweetheart." he managed hoarsely. 1:37 am said the mantel clock.

"I, I thought you went to the building again, I didn't know where you were…" She sounded worried.

"I'm right here," he said. The Empire Building. She must have been dreaming.

He rose from the sofa and went to the open bedroom door.

She was sitting up in his bed. The robe and towel had fallen off and now his shirt was starting to follow; sliding down her small shoulder, one delicate breast almost visible. Her eyes were wide and soft from sleep, her long hair tousled and loose.

On seeing her, he stopped abruptly in the doorway and folded his arms tightly across his chest. So powerful was the physical desire coursing through him at the sight of her like this, in his bed, that he was afraid to move. How many times had he dreamt of a moment like this? His beautiful, beloved Molly asking him to come to her….

But she wasn't, really, was she? This vision of heaven wasn't real. He closed his eyes, his chest tight with the almost physical pain that this realization brought him.

He hadn't imagined that he would fall apart like this. He'd thought he could handle it, but too late, he realized he could not. The timing was terrible, his judgement impaired by fatigue and emotional turmoil. But he started toward her anyway, stopping abruptly just short of the bed. He was going to ask. He had to know if she didn't or couldn't love him.

She was staring up at him with some uncertainty, "I was worried about you…"

"Why Molly, why would you feel that way?" His voice felt strained. Please say it's because you care about me Molly, please, he begged silently.

But she looked away. She wasn't going to answer him, he thought despairingly.

He felt his chest clench again and heard his voice, unexpectedly harsh with pain, "No Molly! Don't look away. I want you to answer me, to tell me."

Suddenly wide-awake now, her eyes flew back to his, wide and shocked at his tone and his words. Oh. And she was angry too, he realized, suddenly confused.

Yes, it seemed she was angry for she flared back at him, "What is wrong with you Greg?! How dare you order me to do anything?!

The shirt fell lower over the slight curve of her breast, but she didn't notice. She paused, drew a deep breath and asked only slightly more calmly, "What do you mean, Greg, anyway?"

He hadn't meant to upset her but he wasn't sure how to stop now, "I mean Molly, why do you like me to be with you, to talk to you, comfort you, hold you, carry you in my arms, to kiss and touch you?"

This made her blush fiercely. "I don't want to talk about this with you!"

"Why not, Molly?" he asked insistently.

She was angry again. "That is none of your business!"

That hurt. He swallowed and retorted, "Maybe it is my business. Try me."

Apparently this made her angrier. "No, I will not! I don't have to tell you anything. I don't just do things because you think you can order me to, Greg!"

Then frustrated, she blurted out unthinkingly, "I won't tell you because if I do, you'll feel sorry for me and I hate that. You'll feel like you owe me something or you'll feel like you have to be noble. You'll pity me….and I don't want that."

She stopped then, greatly regretting this outburst. But since Greg seemed to have become silently rooted to the spot, she continued, this time more quietly, almost sadly, "Greg, it doesn't matter how I feel about you, I just want you to be happy and…free. You deserve that and you said that you were lonely. You should get married again…to someone…to someone who, who is…right for you. You would be wonderful husband and you'll make someone very happy."

He was firmly frozen in place now; his arms had fallen to his sides. His twisting emotions had deserted him leaving dull misery in their place. She was being honest and courageous; it was he who was not. She had trusted him, despite how difficult it was for her to trust anyone, but he hadn't trusted her or himself…

Finally, he said huskily, "Molly. Please. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you like that. Please say you forgive me."

She could see his distress. She sighed softly. "Of course, Greg, it's okay."

He drew a shaky breath; still looking at the floor where his eyes had dropped by the time she'd finished her angry outburst. "No, it isn't okay." he said in a low voice. "Nothing is okay." He stopped and then asked, "Can I tell you something?"

"Alright," she said cautiously.

"Molly, I'm in love with you, really in love with you, desperately in love you and its making me crazy. That's what's wrong with me. I thought I could handle it but I can't. I'm afraid. I only want you to love me; that's all I know anymore."

"Oh, Greg," she said tremulously.

When he still didn't look up, she reached for his hand and tugged it. "Do I have to order you to look at me? Is that how it works around here?" Then she tugged his arm again, so strongly this time that he staggered toward the bed.

He sank onto it beside her only to now look up at the ceiling instead of the floor.

"Of course I love you Greg! I love you, I want you, I daydream about you all day, I fantasize about you all night and when you aren't with me I count the seconds until you are again…I didn't tell you because I thought maybe you were just being nice; helping me to be not so shy and scared of…things. I don't know anything about men. I'm…..kind of ignorant that way and I didn't know what you thought of me, really. I just wanted you to be happy, that's all, because I love you, so that's why I wouldn't tell you….. I thought you might feel guilty or not take me seriously because I'm younger than you."

He remained silent so she said encouragingly, "But everything's okay now, because you said you love me. It's all okay and I'm very happy, very happy…"

He still wasn't saying anything, so she added, "When you feel like it, I'd really like you to kiss me."

His ashamed, miserable, tired and confused mind stopped turning in exhausted circles and latched onto the last request. That he could do, he thought, he could kiss her. And had she said something about him being a good husband? That was important for him to remember for later…that and about fantasizing about him all night…that was good.

She was starting to look a little anxious again by the time he sat up because it was taking him so long to respond.

But now, rapidly gaining his confidence and his mental clarity back, he reached slowly toward her shoulder and tenderly brought the wayward shirt back up to cover all of her again. Of course she loved him. He thought back over the past month; she had been handing him a precious gift and he hadn't recognized it as love.

He had let his insecurities blind him and had doubted her. He had made her sad too and maybe even almost lost her. The notion that she might be wanting to sleep with random men; he must have been completely insane! He was ashamed he'd ever even thought of it. He had let her down. That will not happen again, he vowed to himself. I am a better man than that.

"I'm very happy now too, Molly, very happy," he said, and with the utmost care and gentleness he drew her to lie against his chest as he leaned back against the headboard of the bed. He made loving circles with his hand on her back as they rested.

"Let's never fight about our feelings again, okay sweetheart? That was awful." His eyes were watering, "Actually, I don't want to fight about anything ever again. Let's never have another fight, okay?"

He felt her smile against his chest. "Okay," and then he heard, "I guess that means that you won't be throwing around any more orders, Mr. DI?"

It was his turn to smile. "Agreed," he said.

He kissed the top of her head lovingly, held her tightly and felt the tension start to melt out of his body at last.

Molly said softly, "I love you Greg. So much. I love you with all my heart. I have for a long time. I pretended I didn't at first because I didn't think you would ever love me back."

His arms tightened crushingly at this.

"I've always felt geeky and unattractive…and you're brave, kind, considerate and so good-looking…and I didn't want you to know how messed up I was. Then after I hit my head and panicked, I was embarrassed. But you kept coming to the lab to see me, and I started to feel hopeful, like maybe you liked me. And I started to feel pretty too, beautiful when I was with you. I felt…happy… and I was so in love with you by then, I couldn't think at all, I just wanted the feelings to never stop."

Greg couldn't speak, his throat was tight and his eyes were watering again. He gently drew her up his chest until she faced him and losing himself her beautiful brown eyes he kissed her thoroughly; happy at last to be able to give her all the love overflowing his heart.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Final Chapter  
> Chapter contains descriptions of sexual touching – although within the confines of a consensual, committed relationship. It is the first sex scene I've ever written…so quite probably its really bad…reviews are welcome.

Greg kissed Molly's mouth with careful deliberateness. And when he found couldn't kiss her as deeply as he wanted, without lifting his mouth from hers, he placed a hand behind her head and with the other supporting her back, he rolled her beneath him, laying her head back on his pillow. Then he kissed her as he wanted; parting her lips with his, opening her mouth, his tongue seeking hers and stroking it insistently. She moaned softly, her body shifting restlessly. He had been careful not to force her down with the weight of his body in case it frightened her. He only wanted to give her pleasure and love; all the love that he had held back for weeks was now flooding his body and he wanted her to have it.

He did not want to lift his mouth from hers, couldn't lift his mouth from hers, it was too warm, too inviting and there was so much still to explore, but he wanted to touch more of her. He should ask, he thought hazily, but that would mean lifting his mouth from hers and that was unacceptable just then….maybe he could use his hands instead? Yes, that was the solution…he slid one hand up her side almost touching the breast that had invited his attention earlier…he stoked her smooth skin, asking permission to touch her more. Her small frustrated thrust toward his hand told him all he needed to know; and then it was his turn to groan in pleasure as he found her nipple hardened at the centre of her small rounded breast. This was the only thing that could have enticed his mouth away from hers.  
"Molly, darling…" he breathed, pushing aside the shirt that he had so recently pulled up, kissing the soft swelling and settling his mouth onto its peaked centre with a gentle growl of pleasure. Molly gasped and pressed upward against his mouth. He kissed her nipple, stroking with his tongue, his hand exploring her other breast with sensitive fingers.

"Greg…." She breathed. He answered her by returning his lips to her mouth to offer long slow kisses, groaning his need for her as he did. He was being careful at the same time, never losing awareness of Molly's response. As he felt an agitated movement beneath him, he instantly lifted himself off of her, ready to offer comfort and reassurance if it was needed.

She sensed his concern and whispered, "Greg, it's okay I, I just want to touch you too, your t-shirt, it's in the way…I want…"

That was easy; he quickly stripped the t-shirt off and lowered himself again to cover her exposed breasts protectively with his chest and resumed kissing her mouth with loving thoroughness.

When he lifted his mouth for a moment to press kisses onto her throat, she gasped, "Greg, Greg," trying to catch her breath. "I love you, I love you... I need, I want …" She stopped.

"Hush, sweetheart; it's okay; I know what you need, darling and I want to give it to you…"  
He wanted to give her more pleasure and release, but he was sure that too much intimacy, too quickly would be a mistake. And that was fine, he thought with an inward smile; they had the rest of their lives together.

"Molly, I do want to touch you more, he stroked a light hand over her slender hip and outer thigh. Would you like that? Just my hands…" He didn't want to pressure her so he stopped moving his hand over her thighs and concentrated on dusting kisses on her face, then, distracted by her delicate ear, began to kiss that too.

He was stroking the silken strands of her hair and whispering adoring words to her when she smiled and turning to him, her brown eyes dazed with love and pleasure, she whispered "Yes, Greg, I'd like that. You won't leave me?"

He knew what she meant by this and reassured her, "Sweetheart, I'm right here, loving you and I'm never leaving you. I'll hold you tight and we'll be together, you won't be alone for a second. If you don't like it, I'll know and I'll stop touching you, or you just ask me, okay?"

He covered her protectively; keeping her body warm with his as he lay close to her with his duvet bunched and cradling her back. He kissed her, whispering endearments to her as he stroked her tummy and thighs. Not forgetting her breasts, he kissed those again too. She was wearing a wisp of white lace over her hips that covered almost nothing of her; but was distractingly pretty…

"I'm going to slip this off," he murmured to her, carefully sliding it over her bottom and down her thighs. "That's okay, darling?"

She opened her eyes briefly to answer him, sighing and kissing the hand that he'd brought up to stoke the hair from her forehead.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Oh, Molly, sweet Molly, as I love you…."

He continued to massage and stroke her tummy, her thighs, her bottom; she fit so well into his hands. He admired her beauty as he touched her, but kept his mouth near hers, enjoying her kisses and the breathlessness of her whispers in his ear.

After a few moments, her thighs gracefully parted for his hand and he drew his breath at this gesture of trust; he hadn't realized how much it would impact him.

"Molly," he said. He stopped. He needed permission to touch her this way, needed to be reassured it was okay. He was suddenly afraid of frightening or disgusting her; he wouldn't survive it if she pushed him away now.

"Greg, please, I want…." She stopped. "You don't want to touch me?" she whispered.  
He heard the painful fear behind this question and it wrenched his heart. She wondered if he was rejecting her, perhaps because….He smothered her with kisses, desperate to let her know that he loved and wanted her. "Oh, yes, sweetheart, I do." he said urgently, "I just needed to know it was okay with you, that's all."

"Yes, I want it more than anything, Greg, please."

"So beautiful," he whispered in her ear as he began a slow exploration of her lovely body. As she arched her back a little, he smiled and gradually began a gentle rocking, stroking motion with his hand against her most sensitive places. She had been relaxed until then, but at this new touch she gasped and clenched her muscles against his hand. Her eyes opened wide seeking the reassurance of his. He smiled lovingly at her and she moaned and gasped again, tipping her head back against his supporting arm, providing him the perfect opportunity to kiss her exposed throat. He smiled to himself again, for he felt unreasonably proud that she was so responsive to his touch.

"Greg!" she was gasping.

"Shhh. Breathe, darling, breathe. I'm here sweetheart, tell me, Molly."

She gave small whimpers of pleasure as he continued his rhythmic stroking.

"Greg, I wish, I want you Greg…" She strained her thighs wide apart, frustration lining her forehead, "I wish you were…"

"Oh, sweetheart, I want that too, believe me, I want that. But, for now, would you like me to touch you inside, would that help?" he whispered.

"Yes," she gasped.

So, gently, he slid a finger, and then another, inside her, crooning loving words and kissing her mouth, matching the rhythmic penetration of his fingers into her body with his tongue into her mouth.  
She strained against him and within moments, she was crying out and clutching his other hand with hers, arching her back and pressing her hot core, slick and throbbing, hard against his hand; two then three urgent times, shuddering and moaning as intense spasms of pleasure shook her. Her moans were muffled by his mouth on hers; catching her pleasure and sharing it with her.

After a last spasm caused her to tremble once more, she relaxed against him. Feeling her legs still parted and her thighs wet, the male arousal raging through his body demanded that he mount her and thrust into her slick heat…so powerful was this urge that he had to clench his teeth to fight it off. But fight it off he did. Instead he pressed more kisses on her face and neck and asked her gently if there was anything she needed; whispering that he was going to get a towel for her so she could feel dry and comfortable.

"No, please don't go," she said, drawing his arm over her once more.

"Okay, sweetheart, I won't," so instead of the towel, he tenderly dried her body with the t-shirt he had taken off earlier.

She smiled and sounding sleepy said, "Greg, I love you, you know that, right?"

"Yes, I know Molly, my darling girl, I do. And I love you. But you know that too, right?"

She opened her eyes and gazed at him with such love and adoration that he felt his throat constrict again.

He drew her close, kissing her goodnight, murmuring more loving words to her, knowing she was almost asleep.

His courageous, beautiful, and now he added, passionate, Molly. She was wrapped in his duvet, breathing peacefully, love and trust still clear on her face, even in sleep. He settled himself beside her to watch over her as she slept. I'm the luckiest man in the world he thought and it was a long time before he finally closed his eyes and slept too.


End file.
